One More Time

October 16, 1990|By Saul Jay Singer

THE CHAIRMAN of the Boards effortlessly leaps into the air, perspiration glistening on his forehead in the late afternoon sun, his broad chest nearly parallel to the basket rim. Plucking the ball from the air in a singular smooth motion, much as I might casually reach up to pluck an apple off a tree, he rotates his massive body midair and flicks the basketball as if it were a

They settle on ' 'Rithmetic,' in honor of my t-shirt . . .

* * * 'Rithmetic leaps effortlessly over the rim, shedding sweat off his brow and bodies off his back as he descends with another awesome rebound. He fakes right, cuts left, leaving another unfortunate defender bereft of his underwear. He dribbles around his back to pass still another defender. One man left, one man to beat to the basket.

The camera goes to slow-motion. 'Rithmetic leaves the ground. Soars higher, even higher. He's still rising! He extends his arm over the last defender, and slams the ball down the tube. Uproar! Pandemonium! The sidelines explode . . .

I can hardly believe that I find myself occupying the body of a man nearing 40. The fantasy has never staled.